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If certain critics and poetasters had their way, 'Ordinary Piety' and its child, Dullness, would be the masters of poetry.

Edith Sitwell

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Edith Sitwell
Age: 77 †
Born: 1887
Born: September 7
Died: 1964
Died: December 9
Biographer
Essayist
Literary Critic
Poet
Writer
Scarborough
North Yorkshire
Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
Edith Louisa Sitwell
Dame Edith Sitwell
Miss Edith
Child
Certain
Children
Dullness
Way
Piety
Would
Critics
Masters
Ordinary
Poetry

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I am patient with stupidity but not with those who are proud of it.
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It is part of the poet's work to show each man what he sees but does not know he sees.
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There is no truth. Only points of view.
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I am one of those unhappy persons who inspire bores to the greatest flights of art.
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Good taste is the worst vice ever invented.
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Vulgarity is, in reality, nothing but a modern, chic, pert descendant of the goddess Dullness.
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If one is a greyhound, why try to look like a Pekingese?
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I'm afraid I'm being an awful nuisance.
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The poet is a brother speaking to a brother of a moment of their other lives - a moment that had been buried beneath the dust of the busy world.
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The last faint spark In the self-murdered heart, the wounds of the sad uncomprehending dark, The wounds of the baited bear,-- The blind and weeping bear whom the keepers beat On his helpless flesh . . . the tears of the hunted hare.
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it is as unseeing to ask what is the use of poetry as it would be to ask what is the use of religion.
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White as a winding sheet, Masks blowing down the street: Moscow, Paris London, Vienna - all are undone. The drums of death are mumbling, rumbling, and tumbling, Mumbling, rumbling, and tumbling, The world's floors are quaking, crumbling and breaking.
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I'm dying, but otherwise I'm in very good health.
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Poetry ennobles the heart and the eyes, and unveils the meaning of all things upon which the heart and the eyes dwell. It discovers the secret rays of the universe, and restores to us forgotten paradises.
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Rhythm is one of the principal translators between dream and reality. Rhythm might be described as, to the world of sound, what light is to the world of sight. It shapes and gives new meaning. Rhythm was described by Schopenhauer as melody deprived of its pitch.
Edith Sitwell
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The poet is the complete lover of mankind.
Edith Sitwell
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[History is] that terrible mill in which sawdust rejoins sawdust.
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Virginia Woolf, I enjoyed talking to her, but thought nothing of her writing. I considered her 'a beautiful little knitter.
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Virginia Woolf's writing is no more than glamorous knitting. I believe she must have a pattern somewhere.
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It is hardly respectable to be good nowadays.
Edith Sitwell